Stories, Essays, Reviews
In 1305, the adjective ‘divine’ in English meant ‘of a god’. By 1470, a weakened sense of the word had evolved, meaning ‘excellent’. In the same period, the etymology of the verb form involved the idea ‘to make out by supernatural insight’. By the early 15th century, another concept emerged in association with the verb […]
More and more, disparate and far-flung groups are asked to communicate, cooperate, work together better. But have we taken things too far?
Readers who enjoyed Michael Cunningham’s prize winning novel The Hours are in for a treat. By Nightfall is even better. With craftsmanship both delicate and powerful, Cunningham grapples with happiness: how we create meaning and reconcile the ravages of time.
There is the person who writes. Someone much like you and me. Someone who sleeps, eats, works, gets bored, worries, cooks, shops, reads to his children, laughs, and gets headaches. And there is the ‘author’. This is someone who exists as a separate being on a higher plane. We think of him as descending occasionally to launch books or give interviews; otherwise, he exists in a place apart from the rest of us, breathing in the rarified air of inspiration, nibbling the manna of creativity, producing one beautifully crafted passage after another.
Can we achieve what we imagine? Or is it a place that grows distant in stages equal to our approach?
Even the most prolific writers experience writer’s block. However, professional writers tend to have a bag of tricks for dealing with it when it strikes.
What did she feel on that hot day in the garden of the Cloisters Café, with its ancient ghosts hanging about, and the young writer scribbling away with such purpose? That life had merely happened to her.
Have you ever picked up an unfamiliar notebook and read something in your own handwriting you don’t remember writing?
Inspiration never arrives on call, but bides its time and, when it does come, descends in a variety of guises. It may appear like a clap of thunder or a creeping mist, like a powerful tide or like the tiniest flutter of insect wings. We may not even recognize it immediately. It may only occur to us that we were under its influence after the cloud of energy has lifted, and we are left facing the result of our efforts.
Human beings are fundamentally creative. It’s hardwired into us. And while language gives us the ability to arrange knowledge in ways that lead to innovation, innovation in turn puts demands on the language. Of course, language will shift and change. It always has—and often for less compelling reasons than today’s revolution in mobile technology.
